Winds of change

Sometimes sleep comes late into the night

then rising creates challenges.

 

Will my day mirror the world outside my door?

I ponder my own statement as I step into

the gray soupy fog that blankets the drive.

 

Out of sync with myself, morning

coffee delayed by an hour or more…

 

instead of a caffeine jumpstart

there is a slow roll of becoming conscious

without stimulation.

 

stimulation comes bearing good news

on its wing

the vagabond poet of my youth

wins Nobel Prize

for literature.

 

this day may swirl with fog

& perhaps later

a hard rain’s gonna fall.

 

© Nancilynn Saylor

Photo:

Morning on the street where I live